I Hate You Too
by ChocolateGumdrops
Summary: A hilarious collection of one-shots centered around the mishaps, arguments and ridiculous happenings of America and Britain. Based on the convos between my friend and I, I'm positive they'll have you all busting your gut in sheer, unabashed laughter *PURE CRACK* Rated T for some language, though it's not terrible. Just a little fiery at times! Ya know ya wanna click and read


_**SO, SO, SO~**_

_**I've decided that the conversations my friend and I have should not remain ours alone to howl in laughter at. They should belong to the world, where everybody can fall on their face giggling and roll on the ground chuckling and in the end**_** act every bit the fool they are._Because accept it guys, we're all ridiculous in some way or another! Why not just embrace it~ ^^_**

_**~Ahem. Anyways, I hope ya'll sincerely enjoy these stories. And don't worry. There will certainly be more to come. ;)**_

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters... Regrettably T^T...

*P.S. I'm sorry if anybody seems OOC in this story. Just tends to happen that way sometimes when I write. ^^'

* * *

A typical world meeting of nearly all the nations consisted of nothing getting accomplished because of incessant bickering, disturbing grope-fests, impolite language and quickly escalating tempers. So why should the most recent meeting be any different?

Because it was held in London.

England was positive that he could keep them all _at least _semi-focused for a day, unlike other nations who shall remain unnamed (*cough*AMERICA*cough*)  
Other unnamed nations who just let the world run loose through his streets wreaking havoc and then laughing it all off because it was _all in good fun_.

Ahem. At any rate, England thought keeping them in line wouldn't be so arduous. **Thought** being the key word there, because quite obviously no one can shut America up when he gets started on Global Warming or (God forbid) McDonalds, no one will step in the way of an "excited" France, and most certainly, no nation in their right mind will start an argument with the likes of 'Awesome' Prussia who's entire vocabulary consists only of the single word.

And so, half an hour into the meeting, there sat England, head in hands and cursing foully under his breath. Nothing was getting accomplished whatsoever and that was partially because a certain German was missing. For the first time ever, for reasons unknown to England, the stern nation had not shown up on time. Granted the nicer of the two Italy's was missing too- He'd rather not think about the situation too much. And so he tried to calm himself with the thought that once Germany _did_ arrive they'd be able to regain control over the meeting. As a result England did, amongst the chaos around him, begin to force himself to calm down. Until the leg of the chair he was slouched in was suddenly kicked from beneath him.

Hello, Floor. Floor, meet Arse. Arse, meet Floor.

England was NOT amused. In fact, his enraged face scared the kicker enough that he began to shrink back slowly, hands in the air for surrender. England smugly commended the action (regardless of the fact that he was still going to beat the bloody hell out of him) because people _should _be afraid of him. He used to be the Great British Empire for crying out-

"Iggy what's with your face? You look like your eyebrows are raping your-"

England swung around to that god-awful obnoxious voice, belonging to the most ridiculous and idiotic nation at the table.

"Uh… I mean-"

America instantly regretted opening his mouth, seeing the look that he was fixed with. He hadn't meant to make England mad. He was just being honest and spouting the first thing that popped in his head. Which now that he was in the habit being honest… He _was _kinda scared of the angry face Arthur was shooting his way.

"Dude? Why're ya looking at me like that?"

England just kept glaring and America's nervous gaze shifted to the empty spot behind the island nation. The kicker was gone and- SHIT!

America _barely _dodged the bottle of water England threw at his head, managing to slip while doing so. Getting up quickly, and rubbing his still smarting behind, America desperately scanned the room looking for help from any other nation. Hell even Russia would do at this point!

Not a single soul was paying them attention.

"Well fuck…" he muttered under his breath.

"I swear to God above I will end you Alfred!"

"Hey!" America dodged another airborne cup, this one hard plastic. "Quit throwing stuff at meeee!"

That just fuelled England to continue on, tossing whatever he could find on the table or floor near him, at America. He even resorted to ballpoint pens, which Alfred found to hurt when they were hurled at you with pure rage. He howled and whined pitifully but England still didn't stop. When Britain ran out of things to throw he simply launched _himself _around the side of the table towards the US, this time hitting at him with his fists.

America kept trying desperately to catch the flying arms and pin them, but damn was that hard to do. The guy was acting like a friggin' windmill!

"Dude chill! Jesus! I don't wanna die! It was just a joke! I'm sorry!" America started panicking and decided under stress that desperate measures were called for.

"SHINY RED BUTTON!*"

And suddenly, just as soon as England had started the entire mess, he jumped back and stilled. Granted his face was no less angry and was tinged with something unreadable (fear maybe?), he still held himself back.

"You promised not to use those on me! Bloody idiot!"

"Well quit trying to kill me and I won't have to! Geez!"

"What the- Y-you stupid liar! You'd better not! I-I'll…"

"You'll what old man? Chase me around with your walker?"

Okay so maybe that wasn't the best thing to say to help the situation; there was a reason America's boss demanded he not be a diplomat. But honestly he couldn't resist! It just popped out of his mouth-

And then suddenly, America and England both, were aware of silence where there had once been yelling and chaos. Alfred was the first to look around with sudden irritation, current argument with Arthur forgotten. (He honestly couldn't help the sudden mood-swing; he blamed it on the biparti- BIPOLAR. THE BIPOLAR-NESS.)

"Dafuq…? Really guys? NOW you decide to pay attention?"

America huffed and crossed his arms childishly.

"Some help you guys are. I was about to be mauled by Eyebrows here and no one-"

"What the bloody hell did you just call me you prat?!"

"Vat are you talking about Amer-"

"Je suis désole, Amerique! Mais, big brother France was busy-"

"I aporogize America, but I don't see-"

"You are _superpower _da? You cannot handle self?"

"What are you afraid of aru? Opium can't-"

"THAT IS NOT MY BLOODY NAME YAO!"

America had never felt more relieved in his life that the attention was no longer focused on him. In fact, as he watched the two older nations start arguing over nicknames and drugs he decided that maybe leaving now would be a good idea. Gradually began slinking out of the room, wisely remaining quiet for once in his life.

The door was just in sight. Almost there and-

"Where the bloody hell do you think you're going you damned wanker! I'm not through with you yet America!"

And to think his leather-gloved fingertips were just resting on the dented doorknob of freedom. Nearly there, and he was suddenly jerked back into the realm of chaos by the collar of his bomber jacket. He almost wanted to start bawling like a baby, because, forget the fact he was a superpower, England was fucking scary when he was pissed and DAMN WAS HE PISSED!

"AGH! NOOO! FREEDOM MY SWEET-"

England's fist came down on top of America's head a few times and the younger nation desperately squirmed to get out of his grasp. Unfortunately, Britain was surprisingly stronger than America gave him credit for (even if America was still the _strongest_ of them both) and he only wound up getting further entangled with the Brit. As a last resort he started chanting a very 'American' prayer in the hopes that it would save him. At least it made Britain give a slight pause out of confusion.

"…IdunwannadieIdunwannadieIdun wannadieIdunwannadie…"

"Ah! A new chant? Russia will join you, da? …Kolkolkolkolkol…"

Alfred decidedly quit after that, preferring instead to result to pleading… The American way.

"Dude not cool! Quit hitting meeee! I thought we were s'posed to be allies bruh!"

"When you learn to have proper manners, grammar and you quit insulting me we will be!"

America started squirming again, fighting with all he was worth to get away.

"Wha- I ALREADY APOLOGIZED DUDE!"

"That doesn't bloody count! I'm not satisfied with the apology so I reserve the right to hit you! NOW GET YOUR ARSE BACK HERE!"

"NUUU! You can't make me! I'm independent remember!"

America had finally succeeded in twisting away and without a second glance had leapt away from England. Not surprisingly he ran into the table behind him, rather painfully I might add. Then, instead of rethinking his escape plan and running around one of the sides of the oak table, he scrambled atop it and stood in the middle, eyeing England warily and with a bit of anger.

"Get off the damned table Alfred! NOW! You're not six years-"

Alfred sneered at England. Then stopped when he noticed the slight grin on the man's lips.

"Wait I take that back lad. You _are_ still six years old… With the brain capacity of a four year-"

"HEY TAKE THAT BACK NOW BRITAIN!"

"No! I refuse!"

"Y-you- I- You- Fuck you England!"

"Is that the insult you're sticking with?"

America's face just continued to grow redder and redder and Britain… Well his face was already red with fury to begin with. He didn't have much room for improvement there.

"You know what Britain? This is war! I'm declaring it!"

The other nations began to fidget nervously. Sure overexcited America tended to declare war quite often, but there was usually no political backing to it. Hopefully that wouldn't change.

"Oh are you America?" Insert over dramatic, America-centric eye roll here. "You can't do that without political backing you idiot. And besides, what are you going to call it? The War of The Conference Table? Bloody stupid yank."

"No! I'm calling it the War of 2012! AND YOU'RE GOING DOWN BRITAIN!"

"War of…"

England's eye-twitched. America's fingers curled. France nose-bled all over Hungary's camera.

Then, once again, all hell broke loose in the conference room.

* * *

**_So, how'd you guys enjoy it? Hate it? I don't really care which it is as long as you tell me in a review~  
_**

**_BTW- The Shiny Red Button is a joke between myself and my friend. Basically it's that old stereotype of a stupid president unable to resist the curiosity of pressing the Red Button (even though it clearly reads DO NOT TOUCH). Then, once he does the world goes to shit because he released a whole butt-load of nukes everywhere. Oops. Guess he shouldn't pressed it huh? (You can't tell me you haven't seen that scenario at least once on _some_ show) ANYWAYS, we have the agreement that America has a Shiny Red Button and that if he presses it- Well we all know how THAT would end. ^^_**


End file.
